


The Best Seamstress in the Kingdom

by LiGi



Series: Gwenfest [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 4+1 Things, 5+1 Things, Awesome Gwen (Merlin), Best Friends, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Clumsy Merlin (Merlin), Fluff, Gen, Gwen-centric, Male-Female Friendship, Minor Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Season/Series 01, Sewing, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Week 1, eventual arthur/gwen, gwen has a slight crush on merlin, gwenfest, i really love gwen and merlin's friendship ok, there's actually a sewing tag, well it was supposed to be 5+1 but i counted wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:09:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28659999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiGi/pseuds/LiGi
Summary: Written for Gwenfest! Week 1 - Canon EraFour times Gwen helps Merlin with sewing, one time he helps her.
Relationships: Gwen & Merlin (Merlin)
Series: Gwenfest [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100393
Comments: 14
Kudos: 32
Collections: Gwen Fest





	The Best Seamstress in the Kingdom

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a 5+1 fic, but it turns out I can't count so it is 4+1. And I like it like this so I didn't want to go back and add an extra bit. I might do in future... but don't hold your breath.

Merlin barrelled through the corridor, dodging other servants, the ripped breeches clutched tightly in his fist. He skidded to a halt outside the Lady Morgana’s chambers, hoping this wasn’t against some stupid etiquette rule he hadn’t bothered to learn yet. He hammered on the door.

“Come in,” Morgana’s clear voice rang out from inside the room.

Merlin opened the door and stepped in. Morgana was sitting at her dressing table and Gwen was fixing pins into her hair, which was coiled prettily at the back of her head. She caught sight of him in the mirror and turned with a smile.

“Merlin, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, I was just looking for Gwen.”

Morgana gave him a knowing smirk and Merlin blushed, Morgana was still under the impression he was in love with Gwen.

“Well, I’d better go and meet the King. Is Arthur down there yet?” Morgana stood, patting her hair and smiling her thanks at Gwen.

“No.” Merlin held up the ripped breeches. “He had a slight mishap…”

“Oh, I shall have fun teasing him about that,” Morgana laughed and swept from the room in a swirl of silk skirts.

Merlin grimaced at Gwen, who giggled.

“Let me see them.”

He handed over the breeches, they were ripped right up the backside.

“Any chance you could fix them? Please? He wants them for this evening?”

Gwen examined the ripped edges of fabric, tutting. “Surely the prince has other breeches?”

“Of course he does. He has about fifteen other pairs. But he wants _these_ ones.”

“He is so spoilt…” Her face flushed and she quickly stammered out. “I mean… um, of course, he’s a prince, he can have whatever he wants, I – I’m not… I didn’t mean–”

Merlin shrugged with a grin. “He _is_ spoilt, I tell him so every day.”

Gwen’s eyes widened a little and she let out a nervous giggle.

“You’ll end up in the stocks again if you’re not careful.”

Merlin pulled a face and nodded. “I’ll be in the stocks tonight if he doesn’t get these breeches.”

“Come here.”

Gwen dragged him into a little antechamber off Morgana’s room. It was a well lit room with a large chest overflowing with fabrics, a tall screen from which a blue gown full of pins hung and a table strewn with spools of thread. Gwen pushed a few spools aside to make room on the table to spread Arthur’s breeches across.

“Oh dear, how did this happen?”

Merlin snorted, tried to hold back his laughter, then gave up and clutched his ribs as he laughed.

“He bent over to pick up his boots and…” He made an exaggerated ripping noise, re-enacting the action then collapsing into giggles. “You should’ve seen his face!”

Gwen joined him in his mirth, one hand pressed over her mouth as she tried to stop laughing. But when she caught Merlin’s eye she couldn’t stop the giggles exploding from her, grabbing onto the table to keep herself upright.

“I bet Arthur didn’t find it quite so funny,” she spluttered once she’d managed to get herself back under control.

Merlin snorted. “No. He threw his boots at my head.” He rolled his eyes, but Gwen looked slightly alarmed. “Don’t worry, I’m good at ducking.” He flashed a grin at her and she patted his arm consolingly.

“We’d better get these mended then so he has no other reason to throw things at you.”

Merlin didn’t want to point out that the prat would always find some reason to throw things at him.

Gwen chose a spool of thread that matched the colour of the breeches and picked up a needle, easily threading it and beginning to stitch. Merlin watched in fascination as she worked quickly and neatly and within minutes the breeches looked so good you would never even know they’d had a tear in them.

“Oh thank you!” Merlin admired her work, shaking his head in astonishment. “That’s fantastic! You must be the best seamstress in Camelot!”

Gwen blushed.

* * *

“Gwen!” Merlin ran to catch up with Gwen in the corridor. She turned and smiled at him, balancing her laundry basket on one hip.

“Good morning, Merlin, how are you?”

“I need to ask you a favour,” he said without any preamble. “I have a friend, he’s trying out to be a knight tomorrow, but he needs clothes; gambeson, chainmail, tabard.” He raised his eyebrows hopefully.

“Is he a nobleman?”

“Uh…” He took Gwen’s basket and hoisted it into his own arms so he didn’t have to look at her as they started walking again. “Yes, of course he is, he has to be noble to be a knight, doesn’t he? First code and all that…” He peeked at her from the corner of his eye.

Gwen narrowed her eyes, a confused little frown creating a wrinkle between her eyebrows. “So why doesn’t he already have chainmail and tabard?”

“Umm… he lost them…” Merlin said, unconvincingly, then sighed. “Ok, fine, he isn’t noble. But he really deserves to be a knight. He’s brave, he’s good with a sword, he is _far_ nicer than Arthur and his knights. And he saved my life.”

Gwen gave him an apologetic smile, putting a hand on his arm.

“You know Arthur won’t let him be a knight if he isn’t noble,” she said softly.

Merlin stopped walking and looked up and down the corridor, then leant in to whisper conspiratorially to her.

“Well, I may have bent the rules just a little…”

“Merlin!” Gwen scolded, but she was trying not to smile so Merlin wasn’t too worried about her objecting.

“I told Arthur he _is_ of noble birth. I forged him a seal of nobility,” he admitted. “He just needs the outfit to go with it now. And seeing as I just happen to be friends with the best seamstress in the whole kingdom…?” He shot her one of his most winning smiles.

She giggled and blushed. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, I would.”

Gwen couldn’t stop smiling, self-consciously tucking a stray curl of hair behind her ear. “Thank you, Merlin.”

“So you’ll help?”

“I’ll help, as long as you’re sure you won’t get into trouble for lying to the prince?”

“This is just to get his foot in the door, once Arthur sees how good he is, he’ll want him as a knight regardless of his birth,” Merlin said firmly. He was sure he was right and Lancelot would make a fantastic knight.

“I think it’s really nice of you to get him the chance to prove himself,” Gwen said.

Merlin shrugged. “Just helping a friend. You’d do the same.”

She gave him a sweet smile. “I would. For you… I mean, not just for _you_ ,” she quickly added, getting flustered and shaking her head. “For any of my friends. _Like_ you. Because you’re one of my friends.” She took her laundry basket back from him, fiddling with a purple silk sleeve that dangled over the edge.

“Thanks.” Merlin dropped his hands to his sides, swinging them a little. He could feel the tips of his ears warming up.

“I’ll um, I’ll need to meet him, your friend,” Gwen said. “I have to take measurements if you want the clothes to look like they were actually made for him.”

Merlin bounced on his heels, his excitement for his plan returning as he pictured Lancelot in full knight outfit.

“Of course, I can bring him to meet you this afternoon, if you have time?”

“That would be perfect.”

“Thank you so much for this, Gwen. I’ll go and tell him!” He gave her arm a squeeze, then grinned and turned back towards Gaius’s chambers. “You won’t regret it,” he called over his shoulder. “You’re going to love him.”

* * *

They sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the fire in Gwen’s cottage. A pile of Arthur’s shirts in a basket by Merlin’s side. Arthur went through so many shirts during practise. Merlin had begun to despair. He couldn’t keep asking Gwen to fix them, she had her own work to do without him giving her extra.

So she had offered to teach Merlin how to sew.

Right now she was bent over almost double laughing at him. Merlin’s face was screwed up in concentration, his tongue poking out just the tiniest bit and his eyes crossed as he focused on the needle and thread in his hand.

“It won’t go through!” he shouted eventually, after several attempts to thread the needle.

“Here.” She took the needle from him, licked the end of the thread and pinched it, then, holding the needle up to the light, she easily slipped the thread through the eye, a slightly smug little smile playing over her lips.

Merlin huffed and mock glared at her as she handed the needle back.

“Why do you have to make it look so easy?”

She giggled. “Practise makes perfect. We’ll get you threading needles in no time.”

“Hmmm.”

“Now, get your shirt…”

Gwen had one of Arthur’s nice red shirts on her lap, Merlin had an old white one that was going a little grey. Both had similar rips on the sleeves, most likely caused by an errant blade in training.

“Start like this, here.” Gwen showed him how to start the stitch at one end of the tear, holding the end of the thread with one finger so it didn’t slip all the way through. “Then back through and across the rip…”

Merlin tried to copy the tiny neat stitch Gwen made. His didn’t look too bad, slightly wonky perhaps but small enough.

“Excellent,” Gwen gave him a little nudge with her elbow. “Now… like this.”

She made another stitch and pulled it tight. Merlin pulled his stitch too tight and his last stitch came undone as he pulled the entire thread all the way through and out of the fabric.

“Oh! Bother!”

“You let go of the end,” Gwen pointed out. “I know, let’s put a little knot at the end of your thread so you can’t pull it all the way through.” She took the end of his thread and tied a small knot. “Now try again.”

He tried again. And managed to pull the needle too far so that the thread slipped out of the eye again. He groaned and Gwen rethreaded it for him.

After a few minutes, he had actually successfully managed seven little stitches without incident. They ranged in size slightly and one was very crooked, but the tear in the shirt was gradually getting smaller. Gwen had already finished the rip on the shirt she was working on and her perfect stitching was barely even visible. She had stopped just before she got to the end of the rip to let Merlin catch up so she could show him how to tie it off at the end.

“You’re doing really well,” she said encouragingly. Merlin snorted.

“It looks like this was sewn by a blind man with only one hand,” he complained.

“Well yes, a bit,” Gwen said with a giggle. “But for a first try it’s not too bad. Keep going.”

Merlin stuck the needle back into the shirt, a touch too zealously.

“Ow!” He yanked his hand out of the folds of fabric and sucked his stabbed finger. Gwen giggled more. “I’m glad my pain amuses you,” he groused which only made her laugh harder.

“Oh, Merlin, you are funny.”

He pulled a face.

“I have a battle wound,” he said dramatically, waving his finger in her face. It wasn’t even bleeding. She batted his hand away.

“Come on, finish your stitches and I’ll show you how to tie it off.”

“Alright.”

He leant over his work, his tongue poking out again as he concentrated on keeping the stitches small and even.

“Gently.” Gwen put her hand over his, stopping him from pulling too hard. “Don’t do them too tight, they’ll pucker the fabric.” She gave the fabric on either side of the mostly stitched tear a very gentle tug, flattening it out and pulling the stitches straight. “Keep an even tension on the thread. That’s it.”

Slowly but steadily he sewed his way to the end of the rip. Gwen picked up her own needle again and showed him how to close up the end and tie off the loose thread and tuck it into the stitches.

Merlin felt rather pleased with himself as he admired his needlework. Yes, it wasn’t as good as Gwen’s; it was a little lumpy in places, and some of his stitches were wonky or loose, but the rip was mended. He ran his thumb over it, grinning.

“I did it!”

“You did, it’s a fantastic job for a first attempt. We’ll make a seamstress of you yet.”

Merlin felt his cheeks flush with pride, and knew his ears would be turning red too. Gwen patted his knee happily but then dragged the basket of other ripped shirts towards them.

“Another one?” she asked with a grin.

Merlin groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

* * *

Merlin hurried down the corridor, his ankles cold where his old breeches were too short. He found Gwen in the laundry room, sorting Morgana’s gowns.

“Gwen! Gwen, I need your help…”

“What’s the matter, Merlin,” she said, immediately putting down the blue silk dress she was holding and turning to him with a worried expression.

“I sewed Arthur’s favourite nightshirt to my breeches!”

“You…what?” Her face screwed up in confusion, a bemused smile crossing her lips.

Merlin held up the bundle of fabric, brown and white twisted together.

“I was sewing a rip on Arthur’s nightshirt… but I was holding it on my lap as I was sewing and I sewed it to my breeches!”

“You sewed it to your breeches?” Gwen repeated slowly, taking the bundle of cloth from Merlin’s hand and pulling the two garments apart. Sure enough she found the ripped part of Arthur’s nightshirt, beautifully stitched back together… but also stitched to the thigh of Merlin’s breeches.

She quickly put a hand over her mouth to cover the giggle that burst from her. Merlin put his hands on his hips, glaring at her in mock anger.

“It is not funny! Those are my best breeches! Now I have to wear these ones!”

He gestured down his legs at the old slightly too short breeches he had put on after managing to extricate himself from the ones with the nightshirt sewn to the front. Gwen looked at his bare ankles and laughed harder, having to hold onto the laundry tub behind her.

“Sorry, Merlin, I don’t mean to laugh at you,” she said through giggles, holding up Arthur’s nightshirt and Merlin’s breeches. “But this is the funniest thing I have ever seen!” And she collapsed into laughter again.

Merlin tried to look cross again but he couldn’t stop the grin spreading over his face as well, Gwen’s laugh was infectious.

“It was really good needlework too,” he complained, pointing to his stitches. “Look how even they are.”

“I think it’s probably some of the best sewing you’ve ever done,” Gwen said sympathetically. “I’ll have to unpick it all though.”

Merlin sighed.

“Come over here.” Gwen led him over to the corner of the laundry room where a little cabinet held scissors, needle and thread. She pulled out a pair of scissors and sat in a chair by the cabinet, holding the two stitched garments on her lap. Very carefully she unpicked all of Merlin’s stitches and extricated the breeches, completely unharmed.

“Well there goes my lovely handiwork,” he complained.

She handed the breeches to Merlin and he sighed, draping them over his shoulder to keep his hands free.

“Do you want me to sew this back up?” Gwen asked, holding up Arthur’s nightshirt.

“No, I don’t want to keep you from your work, I’ll do it.”

Gwen stood up so that Merlin could sit in the chair, then gave his hand an encouraging little squeeze and handed him the nightshirt and a needle. Merlin smiled when he noticed she had already threaded it for him.

As Gwen went back over to the laundry tub, Merlin began sewing up the tear, slowly and carefully, lifting it up off his lap after every stitch to make sure it wasn’t attached to him. By the time he had finished the five inch long tear, Gwen had finished the laundry and had hung up Morgana’s dresses over the line. She came and knelt on the floor beside Merlin’s chair, smiling proudly as he tied off the thread and snipped the excess away.

He held up the shirt for her inspection.

“It’s brilliant, Merlin. You’ll be the finest seamstress in all of Camelot soon,” she said with a smile.

He grinned and leant down to hug her.

* * *

Gwen was sitting on the floor, the beautiful coronation gown splayed out all around her in folds of purple satin. She had her face buried in her hands and didn’t even look up when Merlin rushed into the room.

He dropped to his knees at her side, taking her hands away from her face and giving them a squeeze. Her fingers were trembling.

“Gwen…?” He ducked his head to catch eye contact with her.

“I can’t be a queen!” she cried, a little shrilly, her eyes wide. “I’m a lady's maid, a _servant_. I’m a blacksmith’s daughter, not a princess or a lady, I –”

“Gwen.” Merlin cut her off, giving her hands a harder squeeze. “Arthur doesn’t care about any of that. He loves you exactly as you are and he wants you to stand beside him and help rule his people.”

“I can’t… I…” She gulped, trying not to cry as her eyes brimmed with tears. She looked down at her lap; a needle and a spool of purple silk thread were almost buried amongst the folds of fine fabric. “I ripped my dress.”

Merlin followed her gaze to the hem of the gown where there was indeed a small rip. He let go of her hands and lifted the edge to take a closer look.

“It caught on my shoe as I stood up and it tore,” Gwen whispered.

He knew Gwen had been nervous about the coronation for days. She’d mostly managed to hide it from Arthur but Merlin had caught the anxious glances she had been sending the gown ever since it had been delivered to her chambers last week. It was more than just a gown to her, it symbolised so much. And so Merlin completely understood why even the tiniest rip on the hem had brought all of her nerves crashing down.

“I tried to mend it,” she muttered, picking up the needle with the fine silk thread trailing from it. “But my hand was shaking too much.”

“Here.” Merlin gently took the needle from her. “Let me.”

She sniffed as Merlin carefully lined up the torn edges and began sewing. For a moment or two the room was silent but for the rustle of Merlin’s hand against the satin.

He didn’t look up from his stitching, he couldn’t afford to make a mistake, but he nudged Gwen’s knee and smiled as he recalled something she had said to him many years ago.

“You told me once that some people are just born to be queen.”

Gwen let out a watery chuckle, shaking her head. “I was talking about Morgana at the time though… look how wrong I was.”

“The sentiment wasn’t wrong,” Merlin told her. He glanced up, wanting to meet her eyes as he spoke so she could see the sincerity. “You were just talking about the wrong person. _You_ , Gwen, _you_ were born to be queen.”

Her cheeks flushed, a sudden smile breaking across her face as two single tears slipped down her cheeks. She threw herself forwards, hugging Merlin tightly. He only just managed to move the needle out of the way so it didn’t stab her in the arm.

He held her back just as tightly, blinking a little to stop himself crying too.

“Thank you so much, Merlin,” she whispered into his neck. “For always being my best friend. I love you.”

“I love you too, Gwen.” He gave her another squeeze and she pulled back enough that she could kiss his cheek then hugged him again.

Her face was damp and her eyelashes spiky with tears when she finally sat back, smiling softly at Merlin. She fluttered her hands around her face, wiping tears with her fingertips.

“Oh, I don’t even have a handkerchief.”

Merlin reached up and untied his new neckerchief, yanking it off and handing it to her with a grin. She giggled and dabbed at her eyes.

Picking his needle back up again, Merlin finished the last few stitches and tied the thread off, moving the needle, spool and scissors away.

“There you are,” he said proudly. It was the best needlework he had ever done.

“Oh Merlin. It looks perfect.” She looked like she might burst into tears again.

“Well of course. I am the best damn seamstress in this kingdom,” he joked with a playful smirk, pleased when she laughed.

He stood up, holding out a hand to help her up as well, lifting her skirts out of the way so she didn’t tread on them. Once she was up he swept them out and let them drape in perfect waves around her. She really did look every inch a queen.

“Thank you,” she said again, handing him back his neckerchief.

“No, thank _you_ , your Majesty.” He made a low bow, over-exaggerated and silly, but it made her laugh again.

He pulled her in for one last hug before tying his neckerchief back around his neck and tucking it into the high collar of the fancy red jacket Arthur had given him. Gwen plucked at it until it was lying right then smoothed down the front of his jacket.

He caught her hand just before she took it away and looked her straight in the eye.

“Now,” he said. “Go in there, stand beside that prat of a king we both love so much and become the queen you were always destined to be.”


End file.
